


This Doesn't Happen

by Sweetgrrl



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Rough Sex, SSC, Shameless Smut, Toppy Tom, fast-paced, work out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 00:13:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3360647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweetgrrl/pseuds/Sweetgrrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She meets the last person she would expect, in the place she never would have thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Doesn't Happen

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta-d. Again with the tumblr post that I reworked. Hope you like it...

The pounding beat of the music filled her ears as she gave herself up to the rhythm and the push and pull of her muscles. She smiled to herself, her eyes closed, as she felt the sweat drip down the back of her neck. Straining, her legs trembled and she felt the rush of endorphins kick in. She felt her hands get sweaty, the grip slipping as the pulsing of her body threatened to dislodge her.

A cool breeze hit her face, and she opened her eyes in surprise as the glass gym doors opened, admitting the tallest, lankiest man she had ever…..oh holy fuckballs. That was Tom effing Hiddleston, the very man she and her friend had driven 6 hours in an attempt to meet. As he hopped up onto the treadmill directly across from her, she tried to calm her shock and not fall off the bike. 

Of course, she thought. The one morning she decides to work off her frustration with a spinning session, and he happens to be in the same fucking hotel, and decide to work out at the same fucking time. Well. What the fuck ever, she wasn’t going to run away and hide just because he caught her sweaty and exhausted. She dropped her eyes as the session wound up for a brutal standing attack, prepping herself mentally for the surge as she smoothly transitioned into the standing pedaling she loved, craved now even. She shook her head, if someone had told her 6 months ago she would be totally addicted to spinning she would have laughed her substantial ass off, proverbially speaking. She completely forgot the presence of her “celebrity boyfriend” for the 3 minutes of the attack, and only remembered his presence when the song slowed and only silence echoed in the small gym.

She looked up, slightly embarrassed, she knew she cussed unconsciously when she was working out, and met his eyes sheepishly. 

“Sorry about that,” she paused, trying to catch her breath, “I hope I wasn’t cussing too loudly. If the music is too loud….”, another pause” “ I can turn it down or put on my headphones…”

He grinned at her, and eyed her appreciatively. “I love this music…” and he raised his voice as the next song began, “It certainly is….inspiring! As is your vocabulary, love!”

She breathlessly laughed, her mind racing. Thank god she was already flushed from the workout, or she would be blushing from his innuendo. The rat-bastard does this shit on purpose, and now she had confirmation. Now if only she could escape without falling on her face or ripping her gym shorts, she would be good. 

She decided she wasn’t going to let this gorgeous brute intimidate her – he put his pants on one leg at a time, just like everyone else – and she thought ruefully that was the wrong metaphor because now all she can think about is him, sitting on the side of a bed, putting his pants on, commando hopefully ……..and she shook her head to get that image out of her mind. Thank god, a sprint was about to hit, and when the bass dropped she tuned out again and focused on pushing herself. When she came back to herself, she realized he was watching her, and she attempted to ignore him as she chugged her water, and toweled off. It was a losing battle, and she knew it, but she had to put up some resistance, or she would just throw herself at his feet. She chuckled to herself, wondering what his response would be, and her eyes flicked over to him. He was very clearly waiting for her eye contact, because when she met his eyes, his eyebrow quirked as he tilted his head.

Oh shit. The look. The eyefuck. It was even more devastating in person, and biting the inside of her cheek she threw a mental temper tantrum. She was sweaty as fuck, in yoga pants, and her hair – well, best not even think about that. She couldn’t look away, and she was glad for the plausible deniability of her workout to explain her breath stuttering, her face flushing, her hands trembling. He didn’t even look out of breath.

The music wound down to her cooldown song, a song that always made her think of Tom, of course. She sat back on the seat, still pedaling slowly, stretching her arms, doing her cooldown. She knew the consequence of just jumping off and bailing. Not good. Her favorite stretch distracted her from her audience, as he was making no effort to disguise his perusal of her. 

She caught his eye and smiled shyly as he slowed his run, stepping off the treadmill. She realized he was standing between her and the door just as he stepped forward to her.  
He took her chin in his hand and lifted her face up. “I’ve seen you- you look familiar…” 

She blinked in confusion, then as the awareness crept over her face, she put her hand over his, gently freeing herself from his hand on her. “The studio, Tom, you’ve seen me outside the studio. I came to here to meet you, hopefully. But you haven’t come out to greet fans yet. You must have driven past us incognito.”

He laughed. “It must be fate, then, to meet in the gym.”

“Fate or doom.” she said, shaking her head.

“Doom?”

“Well, I mean, I had hoped to at least be showered when or if I ever met you….and not dressed in, well, this.”

“Psh. You look fetching. But if it really worries you, why don’t we meet in about an hour for coffee or a snack or something?”

Her mouth dropped open in shock. 

“Was I too forward, darling?”

“No, I…..I mean, I would love to, but….wha….why….I mean….”

He leaned forward, brushing his lips over her ear, following her when she flinched. His low growl echoed in her brain “You are a fan, are you not? I've see your page...”, her head snapped around so fast she almost gave herself whiplash, and shivered at the look in his eye. “Oh yes, darling, I’ve seen it all, and I have some favorites, your contributions being quite….,” his breath stuttered,” illuminating.”

“How….how….”

“Your icon is your picture, my dear.” He straightened up, lifting his chin, and looked down at her sternly. “Suite 1202, 60 minutes. Do not be late.” And just like that, he turned on his heel, and walked out of the gym. 

She moved like she was in a dream, floating up to her room, showered, and took ten minutes to sit in lotus and breathe. This could not be happening. She glanced at her phone; she had 14 minutes to be there. She did not want to be late- or did she… No, if he had seen her tumblr, he knew things about her she hadn’t even shared with her best friend. Fuck. This is not happening. Not to her. She wasn’t ready for this, it was, oh my god. Okay, chill the fuck out, girl, you got this. It isn’t like he doesn’t know how you are shaped, he saw you in skin tight workout clothes, he already knows about your kinks (fuckitall), he knows you’re a fangirl, and obviously has no issue with any of it….her phone chimed. Seven minutes.  
Her heart in her throat she pressed the button for the 12th floor, fidgeting with the hem of her blouse. Her nerves were really getting the best of her, she wasn’t tall, thin, she never wore makeup, was considerably rounder than her doctor thought she should be….he probably just wants to…you know, talk about Shakespeare or something. What if all he wants is chatting? Or, (shit shit shit) what if that was exactly not what he wanted?? The floors dinged up slowly, 8…9…10...11…and finally, ding! 12th floor. She took a deep breath and stepped out. She looked around – of course, only 2 suites on the whole floor, she was standing in a foyer of sorts. She looked at her phone. 2 minutes.  
She knocked at the door to Suite 1202, and took a deep breath. The door opened, and of course, Tom looked magnificent, because when didn’t he, really? He had chosen to wear his see though blue shirt of sex, paired with skin tight jeans (how the hell did he sit in those damn things?) and he was barefoot. Of course. 

He opened the door wide, and gestured for her to enter. As she stepped past him, he murmured “step into my parlor…”, and she smiled as she answered “said the spider to the fly…”

The door shut, and the solid thunk of the deadbolt engaging sent an almost imperceptible quiver through her. Almost imperceptible. 

He watched her tense up, and when he put his hand on her shoulder, he turned her around to face him. Gently, quietly, he pulled her in for a hug. Her hands rested on his waist, and as he held her, her hands fisted his shirt.

He rubbed his hands up and down her back, soothingly but, also possessively, she thought. His voice was quiet, more rumbly since her ear was resting on his chest. 

"Well, darling, you know my name, but I don't know yours."

She spoke it quietly into his shoulder, and added "I'm not usually this...well....fragile....but I, this- I mean...."

He leaned down and very slowly, softly, took possession of her mouth. His hands wandered up to her neck, twining around to cup her face. He could feel her trembling, and it inflamed him, sparking both an unbearable urge to plunder, and a tender urge to protect.

As he lifted his head to gaze at her, she met his eyes squarely, not flinching. 

"Do you trust me?"

She blinked. Drew in a deep breath and considered him. Considered the consequences of what could happen, and then discarded them. Sure, she was a nobody, but the danger was to him. Did he trust her?

She smiled. "Yes."

His manner sobered, waves of authority coming off of him like summer heat off a blacktop. "I need consent, love. You must say it, and I will keep checking for it."

She took a deep breath and said clearly, "I consent." He smiled knowingly, and her heart pounded.

He walked around her, eyeing her up and down. "Well, my little one, shall we play?"

She moaned aloud at the confirmation. Holy shit, was this man for real?

His hands roamed over her, brusque and appraising. His growls and groans showed his approval, as did the tightening bulge of his jeans. She watched him, her eyes clear and patient, waiting, waiting for something....

His hands continued to learn her, counting the rhythm of her breathing, feeling her ribs rise and fall, tracing her pulse at her throat as she lifted her chin to provide him access to her. Finally the slow pace sped up, as he stripped her, she began to tremble again, her self-consciousness betraying her. She covered her breasts and turned away, trying to hide her nakedness. 

He allowed her but a moment of this, just long enough to pull his shirt over his head, and unbutton his jeans. He left them on, though, just enough of that damned vee showing to distract her. 

He pulled one hand of hers to him, sliding her small palm across his frame. She thought, rather clinically, his size was distorted by his height. He really was a big guy, broad chest, compact muscles, but his lankiness and his sweet goofiness hid the power of his physique. Her admiration of his body backfired as she looked at the contrast of the two of them... 

Somehow he recognized that train of thought, and set about derailing it. Standing off to one side of her, he pressed close, giving her the impression of shielding. His hands could touch all of her skin now, and touch he did, stroking her curves, her soft rounded belly, her ample ass, cupping her full breasts, rolling one nipple between his fingers. 

One hand in front, and one behind, his strokes began to push at her, testing her, teasing her. He slid one hand down her belly to her pubic mound. Her indrawn breath didn't slow him in the least. His other hand slid up her back, coming to rest at the nape of her neck. 

Growling low, he twined his hand in her hair, grasping it firmly at the roots, not allowing any chance of escape or harm, and as he squeezed that hand, tilting her head up, her back arched, thrusting her breasts out for his eyes to feast on. His fingers slid into her core, feeling how incredibly wet she was. His two fingers continued their journey, capturing her clit between them, as he teased her opening with his fingertips. 

Her breathing deepened into open mouth moans, wordless pleas, and then a surprised squeal as he, fingers still barely inside her, hand still squeezing her hair, abruptly and roughly chivvied her up against the scenic window of the room. 

The cold glass made her gasp, the thought of being somehow seen, although she knew it would be impossible, the barest chance made her cry out in fear. He pressed her cheek to the window, and pulled her hips out, bending her at the waist. As he withdrew his fingers from her aching, hungry cunt, he moved closer to her, keeping her firmly in place with the one hand in her hair.

He placed his two glistening fingers in his mouth, and loudly sucked them clean before her eyes. 

"Before I go any further, say it- say it as surety, that this is still us, still yes, still happening. This will be the last time you say it- as confirmation -darling, what is your safe word?"

His hand, the free one, stroked the curve of her ass, cherished the softness in contrast to his hardness, and heard her say "red". As that word left her lips, he swung down and smacked her bottom, just at the crease of the cheek and the thigh. Alternating sides, he savored her cries, her moans, reveled in the release of his strength. So few women could handle this- but he felt safe with her.

He crouched down behind her, after placing her hands on the glass, making sure her cheek stayed pressed to the window, and knelt on one knee, his hands framing the heart shape of her round bottom. The angle at which she was bent meant he could see all of her hidden folds, shiny and swollen with her desire. 

He slid his long fingers inside her, pressing down, finding all her sensitive spots. when he hit that certain spot, he felt her clench around him and he groaned. 

"Yes, yes- come for me, right here, right now...come on, baby, let me feel you come for me..." His fingers worked her like she had never before experienced, and her orgasm caught them both by surprise as she came hard, screaming his name, shuddering and shaking. He grinned delightedly as he surveyed his now wet jeans. 

"Fuck yes, baby! That was incredible..."

She gasped for breath, "I didn't know....I could....do that....I'm sorry..."

He unfolded and pulled her to him. "Never, ever apologize for that. That is amazing, and both a compliment to my talent (here she laughed shakily) and a testament to your passion."

He led her to the sumptuous bed, and helped her in to it. Stripping his jeans off, finally, his cock sprang into freedom. She bit her lip, and looked up at him finding him watching her as she licked her lips. 

His hand stroked his cock lazily, thumb circling the head as he watched her react to him. 

"I must apologize now, darling- I am quite sure I am not going to last nearly as long as I would wish. Before I take what you have surrendered to me, promise me an encore..."

She nodded and reached for him. "God yes, I promise."

He let go of himself and grasped her out reached hands, sliding to capture her wrists. Bringing them behind her, he held them both easily in one hand, then used his body to press her back to the mattress, her arms and hands firmly secured beneath her, held by his weight in her body. 

Freeing his hand, now, she is effectively bound without any bonds, and she knew to not move them out. 

His hands slid under her thighs, pulling her knees up and out. opening her up to him. Slowly, watching intently, he pushed into her heat, concentrating on the velvet resistance as she slowly relaxed for him. Her moans and writhing do nothing to speed his possession of her. He knows this will be quick, and almost inconsiderately rough, so he deliberately takes his time now. 

Her moans take on a begging whine, as he seats himself within her. He leans over her, one hand supporting his weight, the other pressed on her breastbone, pushing her into the mattress, not permitting any movement by her.

He thrusts into her, barely withdrawing at all from her, and he can hear his own rutting growls drowning her softer moans. He picks up the tempo, as with each thrust he slams into her harder and harder. His teeth grit, and his face is pulled into a feral grin as he flexes his jaw. 

His hand on her chest slides up to caress and cradle her throat, his fingers flexing with the urge to squeeze, to feel that tender life, that vulnerable breath beneath him, as he collapses onto her, his full body weight and strength concentrated on reaching his peak as he fucks her, harder than he has ever allowed himself, and as he hears her scream her pleasure, he explodes, his eyes rolling back in his head as he rides out the aftershocks.  
With a last barely conscious thought for her, he rolls to her side, pulling her arms out from under her. He feels her cradle him to her breast, as he drifts off to sleep, his arms wrapped around her, a warm living security blanket.

She strokes his damp hair, feels his relaxed body grow heavy in sleep, and pulling a sheet over the two of them, she slides into sleep, safely caged in his arms.


End file.
